Facing the Night
by a-word-nerd
Summary: Harry can't sleep the night after the battle over Little Whinging. He crosses paths with a certain werewolf, and receives some much-needed support. Set during DH.


**A.N: I'm back! :) so I finally have a functional computer so I will definitely be posting and updating stuff more often. I have a longer chapter story about Harry and Remus that will be started soon, I'm really excited! This is something that I did over Christmas break that I've just never gotten around to posting. So here you go! Enjoy and review!**

"_That's him, it's him, it's the real one!" _

_There was a flash of green light. Someone screamed. The fog was so intense it was blinding him. Shouts and bangs and flashes of light rent the air…he had no way of knowing who had been hurt…or killed…_

"_Mad-Eye's dead."_

_He was falling, falling through the air like Hedwig had…suddenly, an inhumanly white face with gleaming red eyes and slits for nostrils was flying towards him, held up by neither broom nor thestral…a white, bony hand was reaching for his throat…_

"_NO!" _

Harry thrashed around, tangled in his hot, sweaty bed sheets, before reaching for his wand and sitting straight up in bed, breathing heavily as though he'd just run a long distance. The room was still and dark, quiet apart from Ron's usual snores. Harry let his muscles relax; it had only been a dream.

After replacing his wand on his bedside table, he closed his eyes and leaned back against the headboard, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. He realized he was shaking slightly, although he was soaked in sweat. The room felt like an oven.

Harry stared up at the ceiling after his breathing had returned to its normal speed and he had stopped trembling. He had struggled with nightmares for years, but the never seemed to get any less disturbing. Especially because of the horrific events that had taken place earlier that night, he should have seen it coming. The battle over Little Whinging, plus the deaths and injuries it had resulted in, had unsettled him more than he originally thought it had.

Realizing that sleep was not going to return to him easily, Harry quietly climbed out of bed, put his glasses on, and reached for his wand again. The mid-August heat was stifling the Burrow and making its inhabitants feel like they were being slowly roasted to death, and Harry decided that he could use a glass of water to calm his racing mind and cool off.

He silently left the bedroom, making sure not to disturb Ron. The clock in the hall told him that it was about one o' clock in the morning. Predictably, the entire house was dark and quiet, and, unfortunately, just as hot as the bedroom.

Harry had two large glasses of ice water in the kitchen. The house was just as hot as ever, and he had no desire at all to go back up to bed. Instead, he quietly opened the front door and took a seat on the wooden bench swing on the Weasley's front porch. The temperature, at least, was a little more bearable outside.

He stared up at the night sky, which was clear and dotted with stars. A few hazy clouds here and there made it even more beautiful. The crescent moon shined a small amount of light on the fields surrounding the Burrow. It was hard to believe that a deadly battle had taken place up in that sky only hours ago…

Harry sighed deeply. There was no turning back now, he knew that…but that knowledge didn't stop him from wishing, rather childishly, that things could simply go back to the way they used to be, when everyone was alive and happy, when people could trust each other without having to wonder if their best friend would either be dead or supporting Voldemort the very next day. People could travel without the fear of being followed or attacked, they could trust what the Ministry told them was right, and the ever-evasive line between good and evil was clearer and more relevant. If only things were still that easy.

"A Knut for your thoughts, Harry?"

Harry jumped nearly a foot in the air, and had frantically reached for his wand before his surprise visitor even had time to speak again.

"Harry! Relax, it's just me!"

Harry stopped and got a good look at the person. In the dim light from the moon, he could make out a pair of warm blue eyes and a head of light brown, graying hair.

"Oh, Remus…you scared me." He set his wand down and relaxed back in his chair.

"I see that." Remus' voice was warm and friendly as always, but sounded tired. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"It's okay," Harry replied.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" Remus asked.

"No, of course not." Harry slid over on the bench to make room for Remus.

They sat in silence for a minute. Harry had always appreciated this particular quality in Remus: he didn't always need to be talking, and was usually content to sit in silence until someone else chose to start a conversation.

"It's quite a nice night out." Remus remarked pleasantly.

"It is," Harry agreed. "Much less hot when the sun is down."

Remus hummed in agreement, and they sat in silence again until Harry spoke up.

"Hey, Remus—about earlier…I'm sorry I snapped at you, you know, about that whole thing with Stan Shunpike."

Remus nodded. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have been so quick to criticize you. I was…scared for you."

Harry looked at him in surprise. He hadn't expected that. "You were scared…for me?"

"Of course," Remus replied. "That's what happens when you care about someone."

"Oh," Harry said lamely. He didn't quite know what to say to that.

"While we're on the subject, Harry…" Remus seemed to hesitate, but then continued. "Are you sure you're okay…you know, from the battle and everything?"

This question caught Harry off guard. Wide-eyed, he looked at Remus and replied quickly, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a few cuts and bruises, nothing serious."

"That's not what I meant, Harry." Remus looked him straight in the eye.

Harry paused, and then let out a sigh. "I'm as okay as I can be, Remus. I'll be just fine. No need to worry about me."

"Why are you out of bed?"

Harry blinked at Remus, thrown off by the sudden change of subject. "I—well, it was, um, rather hot, and I, uh…wanted a glass of water." It sounded horribly unconvincing, even to himself.

Remus nodded, paused for a minute, and then said, "You don't have to do that, you know."

Harry stared at him. "D-do what?"

"Be the strong one. Act like everything's perfectly fine, that you're not affected by any of this. You can let your guard down. You don't have to put on a brave face for me."

Harry was quiet for a moment, letting Remus' words sink in. All of a sudden, he didn't feel like he was talking to the somber and battle-worn Remus who had shouted at him earlier that night for not committing murder. He felt like he was back in his third year, talking to Professor Lupin, who was always so kind and friendly and had told Harry to come to his classroom if he ever wanted to talk about anything. It was like a dam had burst inside Harry, and he started talking.

"I just want all this fighting to stop. I don't care about being the Boy Who Lived. I've never wanted fame or glory, because it's all for something I don't even remember, something I was forced into. I would rather have my parents back than be honored for something I really had no control over. I just wish I could stop all this before anyone else gets hurt. Mad-Eye, Hedwig, they didn't have to die. It could have been prevented. Even George, he didn't have to take that curse. He's lucky he wasn't hurt even more seriously. I don't want anyone else to die for me. Maybe…maybe it would be better if I just handed myself over to Voldemort. It would make this whole ordeal a lot less messy. Remus, I just don't know what to do."

There. He had said. Never before had he voiced the opinion to anyone that he felt that it would be easier to hand himself over to Voldemort. He felt like an enormously heavy weight had been taken off his shoulders.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on the side of his face turn his head so he was looking straight at Remus.

"You can start by never suggesting something like that again." Remus told him firmly but gently. "Never, ever think that it would make life easier for everyone if you handed yourself over. Merlin, Harry, you're the reason we're all still fighting! These are dark times, and you represent an invaluable sense of hope. Without you, Voldemort would be too powerful to destroy; he would have won the war and taken over years ago. Then where would we be? People always said that Dumbledore was the only one he ever feared, but I don't think that's true." He seemed to be staring right into Harry's soul. "Don't give up, Harry. We're all behind you, until the very end."

Harry's throat had gone very tight and his eyesight had become suspiciously blurry. He could do no more that nod before leaning forward and giving Remus a hug.

The two of them sat there for a while, taking strength and comfort from each other. Eventually, Remus gently pulled back and said, "Well, it's late. We should probably be getting back inside, hmm?"

Harry nodded, his heart feeling a thousand times lighter than it had a half hour ago. "Yeah. Good night, Remus. And thank you."

Remus smiled and nodded. "Anytime, Harry."

Harry smiled back before getting up and making his way back into the house, taking care not to let the door creak too loudly.

Remus stayed outside for another couple minutes, staring up at the clear night sky. He wondered when he would tell Harry that Tonks was pregnant. So far, only Mrs. Weasley knew. He figured the right time would present itself; he didn't want to burden Harry any further. After a few more minutes of silent contemplation, Remus got to his feet as well and quietly reentered the house, leaving the night and all its demons behind for just a little longer.


End file.
